Blair stopped. She picked a stem of lavender, crushed it between her fingers, and held it to Maya’s nose. The scent was sharp, green, alive.
The first week, Maya spoke only in apologies. Désolée, je ne comprends pas. Désolée for her flat vowels. Désolée for mistaking the baker’s gruffness for anger. Désolée for existing so loudly in a village that had been quiet for centuries. MissaX.17.08.11.Blair.Williams.A.Foreign.Exchan...